Pixar's follow-up to Finding Nemo has all of the heart – and more of the smarts – as the absent-minded blue tang fish feels the call of home
★★★★★ Pixar has made so many classic animated features since 1995’s original Toy Story, that it’s difficult to keep in mind the sheer scope of its achievement. Critics tend to pick out the ones that display the most mould-breaking creativity, like Inside Out or Wall-E, and, of course, it’s hard to argue with the Toy Story trilogy, with its all-conquering combination of childlike joy and adult anxiety, as the very peak of the studio’s output. Still, there’s always been something special about 2003’s Finding Nemo, not just in the sheer jollity and cuteness of its undersea kingdom, but the real heart that moves the story along, transforming it from a deeply affecting drama about a single parent separated from his only son, into a wholly uplifting paean to self-reliance. In the end, Nemo truly is the little clownfish that could, and his ultimate survival chimes with different generations – providing inspiration for kids, reassurance for parents. Given that Finding Nemo is so satisfying in and of itself, you’d be forgiven for wondering whether anyone actually needed a sequel. Thirteen years on however, writer/director Andrew Stanton has returned to the material because he’s lots more to tell us about Dory, the plucky blue tang fish who helped Nemo’s stressed-out dad scour the oceans for his missing son. Where did she come from? What about her folks? View oEmbed on the source website Finding Dory brings her an origin story of her very own, the first step of which is for her to remember that she actually had a mum and dad. That’s no mean feat for a fish whose short-term memory issues render her unable to retain new information for more than a few seconds, but a year on from the events of the first film, something deep inside sends her venturing across the Pacific towards the California coast, where fragments of recollection tell her she grew up. That’s quite an odyssey to undertake, so plucky Nemo and worrywart Marlon tag along for support – none of them knowing whether Dory’s parents are even still alive. But if Finding Nemo taught us anything, it’s that family is... well, family. It’s when the journey begins that the film really shows off the technological advances in the years since its predecessor. The visual palette is now so much richer, each passing moment bringing not only wonderfully immersive, micro-detailed sub-aquatic vistas, but the ambition to venture forth on land when the quest takes the story to a marine-life tourist attraction that proves an ordeal for the sea creatures who end up there. There’s a certain veiled criticism here aimed at conservation projects that don’t necessarily live up to their eco-friendly promises, but the location is also a source for engaging new characters, including a curmudgeonly octopus with chameleon-like powers to blend in with his environment, two English-accented sea lions vigorously guarding their sunny lounging spot on an exposed rock, and an energetic yet myopic whale shark who keeps bumping into things. So, yes, there’s a certain amount of knockabout action, leading to an expansive climactic chase which shows Stanton’s ambition and expertise, both in what he can put on screen and how he can use the camera to get the most out of it. Kids will be bouncing in their seats at this point. Yet, for all the traditional Pixar expertise at providing chuckle fodder for littl’uns and grown-ups alike – as in Finding Nemo – it’s ultimately the movie’s sheer heart and soul that carries the day. While Dory sets out on an against-the-odds mission to retrace where she’s come from, what she really discovers is herself. Watching a very little fish learning to triumph over the disability that has thus far defined her, and trust in her own instincts, sprinkles genuine tears amid the abundant laughter, thanks in no small part to Ellen DeGeneres’s endlessly sensitive and enthusiastic vocal performance. All in all, Finding Dory is exactly what a great sequel should be – like the original, only better. Finding Dory is on BBC1 at 3.10pm on Christmas Day
The Lion King review: "a peculiar hybrid of nature documentary and coming-of-age tale"
Marvel at the computer-generated craftsmanship but this "live-action" refit cannot quite match the emotional heights of the Disney animated classic
After Dumbo and Aladdin, the third of this year’s Disney updates from the company’s rich back catalogue of animated classics brings a "live-action" refit of The Lion King, which is actually anything but. Those lions and hyenas may look incredibly convincing, as indeed does the rugged African landscape where the action unfolds, yet they are, in fact, the result of state-of-the-art computer programming. Technically, the achievement is little sort of remarkable, but does it breathe new life into the much-loved tale of a lion cub struggling to live up to the legacy of his late father, the benign lord of a whole African community of furred and feathered folk? View oEmbed on the source website Individual responses to that question may vary, depending on whether you’re fresh to the Hamlet-lite saga of Simba and the dynasty of lions ensconced on Pride Rock, or you already know and love the 1994 original, now regarded as a high-water mark of old-school animation. Although the new film adds half an hour to the running time, the story elements and splendid songs remain the same, opening with the presentation of the young royal lion cub to the gathered multitudes of tigers, giraffes and flamingos – which looks somehow rather jarring now that the extraordinary menagerie on screen is that bit more realistic. And there’s the rub. Line-drawn creatures who talk and sing and joke, we’re easily able to accept within the imaginative world of storytelling, yet when every bit of ruffled fur and striving sinew looks so utterly plausible, it becomes a rather peculiar hybrid of nature documentary and coming-of-age tale. The drama itself remains engrossing because it was so well constructed to begin with, yet, especially for those familiar with the animated source, it’s as if there’s a barrier inhibiting our complete surrender. Director Jon Favreau’s careful approach, sticking closely to many of the original’s indelible images – like Simba’s tiny paw stepping within his dad’s massive footprint – will also possibly be more impressive for newcomers who haven’t seen them before. It’s a shame, though, that there’s not more creativity on display, as there is in a remarkable sequence following a significant wisp of lion fur as it’s wafted on the wind across country. That said, the villainous hyenas are much scarier this time round, especially when those sharp white teeth are bared, even if Chiwetel Ejiofor’s voicing of Simba’s scheming uncle Scar lacks the ripe theatricality of Jeremy Irons’s prior rendition. Indeed, there’s an abiding sense that emotional expressivity is slightly pared back here, the facial movements limited lest they stray beyond the bounds of believability, whereas the hand-drawn animators back in 1994 obviously weren’t quite so constrained. All in all, then, it’s hard to imagine anyone being too disappointed by a remake which is true to its original story, and features all the much-loved characters and tunes. Yet, ultimately, it remains just too cut-and-dried to engage our hearts to the fullest degree, however much we can admire the craftsmanship involved. As Tim Rice and Elton John’s soul-stirring ballad asks, Can You Feel the Love Tonight?, the answer is far from certain. The Lion King is released in cinemas on Friday 19th July
Aladdin review: "glittery, energetic and positively determined to wow us"
Guy Ritchie's $200 million live-action remake certainly dazzles, but there's no getting over Will Smith's weird-looking genie
Disney retools its 1992 Arabian Nights-style animated classic into a live-action remake, as a cunning thief again romances a princess and confronts an evil courtier, with the help of a wise-cracking genie released from his lamp. In the original movie, Robin Williams’s hilarious vocal contribution was the big news, and here Will Smith works hard to bring something of the same pizzazz. As always, he’s an amiable screen presence, though his game attempt to find an equivalent to Williams’s shape-shifting whirlwind of fun does come over as a tad effortful. And, of course, seeing his face superimposed on an otherwise buff and weirdly blue body, whether it’s true to the original character design or not, is undeniably unsettling. View oEmbed on the source website As well as trying to live up to Williams’s unrepeatable turn, the redo also wrestles with how social values and indeed Western responses to the Arab world have changed in the years since 1992. Hence, Naomi Scott’s strong-willed Princess Jasmine gets her feminist status enhanced yet further, while the gags about traditional methods of punishment (hand-chopping etc) have now been removed, as the film takes a very cautious approach to representations of Islamic culture. The transition from animation to live-action presents its challenges, too, so the previously entertainingly anthropomorphic qualities of Aladdin’s cheeky monkey sidekick, the Princess’s loyal pet tiger and baddie Jafar’s comic parrot accomplice are all significantly dialled-down in their revised CGI incarnations. Instead, there’s more room for human character development, especially in the set-up, where Aladdin, unhappy at having to steal food just to survive, and the Princess, trapped in the palace and facing the prospect of an arranged dynastic marriage, both yearn to escape from their lives. That said, stretching the very same story out from 90 to 128 minutes does make for slow going at times. Under Guy Ritchie’s direction, there’s plenty of digitally assisted spectacle in the bustling olde worlde settings, though the film often seems burdened by the need to show off its $200 million budget. It occasionally lumbers under its own weight, before the pace thankfully picks up in a zesty final half hour, as sorcery and jeopardy bring a much-needed adrenaline burst. View oEmbed on the source website The performances are also of a variable standard. As the strong-willed Jasmine, Naomi Scott definitely outshines Mena Massoud’s slightly bland Aladdin, while Marwan Kenzari proves a one-note villain as the scheming Jafar. The central thrust of the storyline and its message about being true to yourself remain timelessly potent however, even if the emotional impact of Alan Menken’s much-loved original songs (here given an occasional lyrical makeover) gets slightly lost in the midst of Ritchie’s swirling camerawork. Overall, the new Aladdin is glittery, energetic and positively determined to wow us – and ultimately gets the job done. But while its digital wizardry makes the animated version look basic by comparison, it lacks the wit and magic that makes the original so irresistible. Aladdin is in cinemas from Wednesday 22nd May
Alita: Battle Angel review: "a glittering CGI mishmash"
James Cameron and Robert Rodriguez fail to inject any humanity into their manga-inspired tale of a born-again cyborg girl
★★ Almost a decade ago, James Cameron’s Avatar matched ground-breaking digital effects with potent storytelling to score a box-office bonanza. Since then, he’s been beavering away on no less than four sequels, the first of which is due out next year. All of which meant he had to relinquish the reins on another long-gestating project, his screenplay adaptation of Yukito Kishiro’s1990s Japanese manga saga Gunnm. Thus it fell to Sin City helmer Robert Rodriguez to take on this mega-budget cyberpunk flick, revolving around a seemingly cutesy heroine with badass fighting skills. With Cameron also on board as producer, expectation was sky-high, but the results prove something of a glittering CGI mishmash. One very curious decision was to give the elfin heroine such enormous eyes. As portrayed by Rosa Salazar, in motion-capture footage then digitally enhanced, Alita has such outsized peepers it becomes an unnecessary distraction. View oEmbed on the source website She’s a cyborg, recovered from a 26th-century junkyard and pieced back together by Christoph Waltz’s tech whizz. Maintaining a surprisingly sunny disposition as her spluttering memory circuits hint at a far darker backstory, there’s also something slightly creepy about her that keeps viewers at a distance from her emotional journey. As the full extent of her pre-programmed combat skills become increasingly apparent, the story undoubtedly recalls Blade Runner, though the guiding role played by fatherly Waltz also echoes Gepetto’s relationship with Pinocchio. That intriguing blend of sci-fi heft and classic fable unfortunately gets rather lost in the shuffle, however, as Rodriguez barrels ahead with anodyne teen romance, a serial killer sub-plot, and a murky historical context involving apocalyptic interplanetary conflict. There’s also much high-octane carnage in and around the Motorball track – dystopian Iron City’s major form of public diversion. Think Rollerball meets Robot Wars, as tooled-up cyborg warriors impale, chop and shred their rivals on their way to victory. The Motorball mayhem does show Rodriguez and his effects crew in their element, allowing Alita’s pixie-like underdog to demonstrate the breath-taking agility and psychotic edge in competing with the big boys. As might perhaps be expected from the director of the Machete series, the relish with which the film delivers the decapitation and dismemberment of its humanoid supporting robo-cast – not to mention an almost drooling fetishisation of very large blades – mean that a warning is in order for parents thinking of taking children to this 12A-rated movie. Discretion is strongly advised, particularly for younger viewers. It’s not just parents however, who may find themselves slightly dismayed by the apparent might-is-right message coursing through the film’s circuit boards. While paternal Waltz warns that technology can be dangerous if put to the wrong use, Alita herself doesn’t seem unduly bothered about ripping her opponents to pieces, leaving us with an empty feeling amidst the slice-and-dice. Ultimately, the most disappointing thing about Alita: Battle Angel is how so much technical expertise (seen at its fullest in the 3D and 3D IMAX versions) is put in service of a confused, overstuffed narrative lacking a genuine human heartbeat. Alita: Battle Angel is released in cinemas on Wednesday 6 February
Widows review: “delivers food for thought and genre-savvy twists”
Steve McQueen helms a polished, crowd-pleasing thriller with big ideas and a powerhouse performance from Viola Davis
★★★★ The loss of their criminal husbands during a botched heist leaves a trio of widows in the tightest of spots, as 12 Years a Slave director Steve McQueen transfers the 1983 British TV crime drama to contemporary Chicago. Reportedly, the Lynda La Plante original was a favourite of McQueen’s mum’s when he was a teenager in West London, but this new Americanised version brings with it a welter of added complications. Here, the women’s daunting task of reimbursing the haul of cash lost in the failed job, or face potentially lethal consequences from some scary characters, is woven in and out of the city’s corrupt local politics. At the centre of it all, Viola Davis bites down hard on a career-defining role, ferocious as a woman who’s barely had time to grieve (for dodgy hubby Liam Neeson) before she’s battling for survival. It’s the kind of old-school Hollywood grand dame role – think Joan Crawford – that African-American actresses are rarely given the opportunity to play, and Davis certainly makes the most of it. View oEmbed on the source website Her fellow widows, played by Michelle Rodriguez (who loses her clothing store to her late husband’s gambling debts) and Elizabeth Debicki (a domestic abuse victim who ends up in the “escort” trade), join Davis in a plot to steal the funds which will give all of them a second chance, but co-writers McQueen and Gone Girl author Gillian Flynn are as interested in the story’s urban context as its caper-movie potential. Colin Farrell’s wealthy, oleaginous local councillor, and icily threatening henchman Daniel Kaluuya, make their presence felt in the bigger picture. The film has things to say about the connections between money and power, both at home and in wider society, where women and ethnic minorities are so often at the mercy of controlling cash-rich men. This broad canvas makes the film feel slightly more like a vintage Sidney Lumet New York fresco, à la Prince of the City, rather than a femme-friendly caper flick of the order of Ocean’s 8, but it also remains pleasingly punchy and entertaining throughout. Considering that McQueen came to cinema from an artworld background (he’s a previous Turner Prize winner, after all), he’s made a remarkable progression from the austere arthouse style of his 2008 debut feature Hunger to the classy, mainstream product on view here. That’s not to suggest that he’s somehow sold out in the five years since he landed the Best Director Oscar for 12 Years a Slave. There are certainly a few audacious flourishes here, including one car-bonnet-mounted shot which succinctly shows the topography of Chicago’s social divisions. Instead, it’s more a matter of commending him for crafting an accessible, slick, unashamedly commercial offering which delivers unexpected food for thought without neglecting genre-savvy twists, reveals and mounting suspense. All eyes, however, are on Viola Davis, whose determined intensity powers the whole movie, giving visceral thrust where it’s needed, and radiating a soulful humanity that’s the stuff of screen acting at its zenith. Widows opens in on cinemas on Tuesday 2 November
The Little Stranger director Lenny Abrahamson on chasing Oscars — and why ghost films are better without CGI
The Oscar-nominated director of Room discusses his latest postwar thriller starring Ruth Wilson and Domhnall Gleeson
Being nominated as best director at the 2016 Academy Awards for the claustrophobic captivity thriller Room seems to have messed with Lenny Abrahamson’s head. “By the time you get to the actual Oscar night, you’re just knackered,” reflects the 51-year-old Dubliner. “It’s a full-on six months of interviews, receptions, screenings and waking up in the mornings in some hotel not quite sure where you are, but knowing there’s a black SUV outside waiting to whisk you away somewhere else.” We meet in a sun-filled office in a Georgian terrace just south of Dublin’s city centre, home to Abrahamson’s production outfit, Element Pictures. In person, Abrahamson is affable and as articulate as you’d expect of someone who started off at Dublin’s Trinity College studying theoretical physics and then switched to mental and moral science – philosophy to you and me. Eleven years into his feature film career, Room, his fifth release, proved a breakthrough. Adapted by Emma Donoghue from her muchlauded novel, its daunting story – about a young woman locked inside a suburban outbuilding with the small son fathered by her kidnapper – was certainly a hard sell. But the empathy and intelligence of Abrahamson’s handling brought the film four Oscar nominations, with Donoghue winning for best adapted screenplay. View oEmbed on the source website Abrahamson isn’t ungrateful for his Oscar nomination – on the night he lost out to Alejandro G Iñárritu for The Revenant – but he speaks of feeling like he was “spat out at the other end”, and finding himself “back in Dublin having to make your own breakfast. You realise it’s hit you like a drug. It’s like a chemical imbalance… you want to get back to that place and the best way to do it seems to be to make another Oscar-worthy film. As soon as possible.” The Little Stranger may be that film. In contrast to Room’s contemporary, American-set family drama – and indeed its predecessor, Frank, a quirky musical odyssey about a singer who performs under a papier mâché head – The Little Stranger (in cinemas from Friday 21 September) is an austere, subtle production, set after the Second World War. It’s an adaptation of Sarah Waters’s richly atmospheric, Booker-nominated tale (first published in 2009) of a malign, ghostly presence in a crumbling English country house. After Room, Abrahamson found himself surrounded by scripts, uncertain which way to turn. He spent six months in a funk. “Then the penny dropped: I’m actually good at stuff I’m drawn to and can’t let go of. I’d be waking up in the middle of the night and making notes on The Little Stranger. That tells you something.” View oEmbed on the source website As for being lured to Hollywood, “I’m lucky [success] happened to me when I got a bit older. If I’d been younger, I might’ve had my head turned.” He confirms he was never in any danger of moving his Polish wife Monika, two kids and their dogs to a mansion in Burbank. Rather, his tranquil home base is an island off the Irish west coast. Working with screenwriter Lucinda Coxon, for The Little Stranger Abrahamson has delivered the essence of the expansive page-turner, with the events that beset an aristocratic Berkshire family seat sharing equal billing with the conflicted feelings of Domhnall Gleeson’s social-climbing doctor as he grapples with the spooky happenings. His pent-up passion for daughter of the house Ruth Wilson comes from the spell the house itself cast on him as a working-class schoolboy. “I like a challenge,” Abrahamson says. “You’ve got character study, social study, period drama and a ghost story escalating in intensity, all looking to be brought together to make something coherent. And at the heart of it is this doctor, who’s excluded from this world of aristocratic entitlement. He’s fascinated by the thing he doesn’t want to want – but can’t help himself.” If there is a thread to Abrahamson’s varied filmography, it is protagonists who are divided souls. Gleeson’s gnawing contradictions echo the unease felt by the captive mother in Room: she longs for freedom only to find it tainted. In his breakout film, What Richard Did, an elite rugby-playing alpha male is forced into self-examination after a drunken incident. The bestselling Waters has confided to him that The Little Stranger is her favourite adaptation of one of her books. So how has he handled the spectral element of a seemingly accursed old house without the usual cheap jump-scares or tricky digital enhancements? “I have absolutely zero belief in the supernatural,” says the science graduate. “But it’s that thing where you can experience a frisson in particular places, certain houses that don’t feel quite right, or you visit a city where things somehow seem that bit off. You start to lose your commitment to the natural, the solid, and get a heightened sense of the possibility of bad things happening. If you can manage to convey that on screen without the usual CGI and gore, then the effect on the viewer can only be stronger.” Brie Larson wins Best Actress Oscar for Room RadioTimes.com newsletter: get the latest TV and entertainment news direct to your inbox The Little Stranger is in UK cinemas now
Christopher Robin: “a scrappy affair with very little genuine feeling”
Winnie the Pooh is back to help Ewan McGregor’s beleaguered dad, but there’s not enough magic in this tall tale
★★ A year after Goodbye Christopher Robin used fact-based drama to trace the fortunes of the real boy behind the Winnie the Pooh stories, here’s the rather more fanciful Disney offering, in which the now grown-up master Christopher (Ewan McGregor) returns to Hundred Acre Wood for an effects-assisted adventure with his childhood pals. McGregor manfully puts on his best posh Home Counties accent as the husband and father mired in work commitments impinging on his family life, but the digitally animated reappearance of Pooh and pals could yet signal a welcome reconfiguration of his priorities. View oEmbed on the source website It’s a familiar tale, seen before in Mary Poppins and indeed the dread Hook, whereby a cranky dad needs to forget his career and rediscover his inner big kid. However, Christopher Robin’s five credited screenwriters seem to be in a bit of a pickle about how to achieve this liberating resolution, delivering a decidedly scrappy affair, with much frantic chasing about, a central character who’s a rather tiresome fusspot, and very little genuine feeling. Where’s the magic we were hoping for? Director Marc Forster also helmed the marvellous Finding Neverland, so hopes were high that he could bring some of the same child-like delight to these proceedings. Curiously, though, part of the disappointment might be related to the decision to render Pooh, Tigger, Piglet et al, as cuddly toys come back to computer-generated life. The Paddington movies, for instance, absolutely made us believe in a digital bear, but the furry animals on display here are surprisingly charmless – not least Pooh’s downright creepy button eyes and the faded tones which drain the colour from the usually irrepressible Tigger. It’s difficult to credit that this lot are going to change anyone’s life, not least the much-hassled McGregor. Given that Disney’s familiar versions of AA Milne and EH Shepard’s characters are much loved to begin with, there might surely have been a case here for a blend of live-action and regular 2D animation – in the vintage style of Bedknobs and Broomsticks. As it is, McGregor struggles to relax into the role (fair enough, this Christopher Robin is written as a bit of a fuddy-duddy), so the attention tends to wander elsewhere. Mark Gatiss trowels it on rather too thickly as his unscrupulous boss, although Jim Cummings’ contribution as the voice of Pooh and ever-frolicsome Tigger, whom he's incarnated on screen for the past 30 years, remains as comforting as ever. It’s not quite clear why Eeyore has an American accent – though voice artist Brad Garrett does a terrific job – but his comically excessive melancholy turns out to be an unlikely scene-stealer. “Oh, no,” he sighs as Tigger is poised to leap into his signature number, “he’s going to do the song again...” It’s a rare moment of laugh-out-loud fun in a film that knows exactly where it wants to go, but plays out disappointingly forced and superficial in the execution. Younger Disney fans in particular will be puzzled why there’s so much of the boring old dad when it is titled Christopher Robin – and therein lies a warning. Christopher Robin opens in cinemas on Friday 17 August.
Ethan Hawke on Trump, making money and post-Weinstein Hollywood
The actor, writer and director stars as a tormented priest alongside Amanda Seyfried in his latest film First Reformed
He’s graced our screens for more than three decades, but Ethan Hawke has never before shown such fierce gravitas. Now his role as troubled Reverend Toller in First Reformed is the epitome of solemn dignity. An unsettling spiritual drama for our turbulent times, the film has garnered stellar reviews in the States. With his drawn features accentuating those sharp cheekbones, Hawke’s pastor – of a small, white-timbered church in New York State’s historic Albany – proves as serious as any fire-and-brimstone sermon. It’s a far cry from the eager youth he played in Dead Poets Society in 1989, but since then Hawke has become one of Hollywood’s most versatile performers, if not a marquee star. Bringing a slow-burning intensity to the ecclesiastical meltdown at the heart of this story, his fervent eco-warrior convert prepares to defend the planet by any means necessary. “Will God forgive us for destroying the Earth?” Toller asks accusingly, while the tragedies of his own life bear down on his booze-ravaged body. Writer/director Paul Schrader’s modestly scaled but thematically rich film is a powerful brew, and while Hawke absolutely does it justice, it’s undoubtedly a weightier role than he’s used to. He’s a leading man, after all, often exemplifying decency and somewhat befuddled masculinity – the slightly flaky dad in Richard Linklater’s Boyhood, or the writer facing the regrets of maturity in Linklater’s Before trilogy. Ethan Hawke: Boyhood “scared the s**t” out of Hollywood Uma Thurman and Ethan Hawke's daughter Maya Hawke makes her acting debut as Jo March View oEmbed on the source website As he passes through London, it’s obvious the still-trim 47-year-old actor was more than up for the film’s demands. “In a normal movie, it would be my job to help the audience understand who Toller is, but this is not that movie,” he explains. “This role is about non-simplistic thinking, where nothing is just one thing. Is Toller politically charged or going crazy? Is he finding his faith or losing it? These are not easy questions, and the film isn’t there to give you easy answers. “I have to admit I’ve been surprised by how well it’s done with audiences in the US. I guess people are hungry for something with substance,” he says, his characteristically soft voice still offering faint traces of a Texas drawl. “Great writing like this says things that need to be said. It was certainly meaningful to be making this film in the wake of the Trump inauguration. It got us thinking – where’s the spiritual leadership we need today?” Toller’s unravelling is another cautionary tale like Schrader’s breathtaking script for Taxi Driver. It also hints at a mature new chapter for Hawke’s career, which kicked off when he was 14, co-starring with an equally fresh-faced River Phoenix in Explorers. Does he feel his lived-in looks might now open up new casting opportunities? Possibly for effect, he strokes his goatee before saying, “Our lives are the people we spend time with, and actors are no different. Sir Ian McKellen has spent his career putting on the best plays, and working with some of our greatest writers, and I think that shows in him. Perhaps the best year of my professional life was performing Off the Coast of Utopia with Tom Stoppard in New York. That stuff has to rub off. Maybe if you spend your time doing stupid stuff, that has an impact, too?” Hawke’s work ethic and quality control mean he’s largely side-stepped “stupid stuff”. After all, he’s a novelist, theatre director, Oscar-nominated screenwriter (for Before Sunset and Before Midnight), and has been hailed this year for both First Reformed (in cinemas from Friday 13 July) and his third film as director, the country music biopic Blaze. He will, however, admit the films that continue to mean most – sci-fi thriller Gattaca, crime flick Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead, and even Before Sunrise, the indie film that kicked off the now-revered trilogy – were all “ignored in their moment, by audiences and critics”. But it was illuminating when he mused in an interview with Variety on his lack of key roles in franchises such as the Star Wars or Tolkien sagas. To hear a name actor venturing disappointment about the road less travelled is rare. Nothing is that simple with Hawke, however. “Let’s face it,” he adds, with a look of mild resignation, “if you’re in something that makes money, then your life gets easier. But it’s about more than that, it can also draw people in. I remember going to see a sold-out Waiting for Godot with McKellen and Patrick Stewart. How fantastic to see Star Trek kids and Lord of the Rings fans getting their minds blown by Samuel Beckett. It made me love my profession. “This is my job. People who love me and people whom I love depend on me. Maybe when I was younger, I’d be waiting for that role that never came, but there’s something good about the fact it didn’t. Really, I feel like a cat. I’m always trying to stay on my feet, always trying to be alive to what’s in front of me. So when something like First Reformed comes along, I’m there.” Such upbeat noises notwithstanding, I have to ask him to reflect on the industry in the post Weinstein/#MeToo era – not least because the oldest of his children has a career that’s gaining momentum. Twenty-year-old Maya Hawke – from his marriage to Uma Thurman – has already played Jo in the BBC’s Little Women and will be in the new season of Netflix hit Stranger Things. A bright future seems to be in the offing, so is dad concerned? “If she’d been breaking into the profession in 1991 when I was 21… then it was different. I don’t think we saw the worst stuff, but for us there’s a lot of self-investigation. Right now, it’s a question of how far-reaching the changes will be. There are a lot of stones still to fall, but when I see Maya, she’s interested in writing, directing, in the stories she and her friends have to tell. I get the sense those dreams may now be more available than they were 25 years ago.” First Reformed is released in UK cinemas on Friday 13 July
Incredibles 2 review: "Irresistible entertainment"
The everyday superhero family returns to battle with super-villains and role reversal in this delightful, combustible sequel
★★★★ Fourteen years after they first burst onto the scene, Pixar’s superhero family is back for a new animated adventure that picks up where the first film left off. Hence, those "supers" are still deemed illegal by US authorities, and must live clandestinely, keeping their extraordinary abilities under wraps. That rule certainly goes against the grain of what cinema audiences are used to seeing these days, since screens are filled week in, week out with a seemingly endless parade of besuited and caped heroes. The original Incredibles movie certainly made its contribution to that ongoing cultural shift, which has seen comic-strip crusaders act as a sort of imaginative bulwark against our real fears of an increasingly dangerous world. Writer-director Brad Bird, who has returned for Incredibles 2, once more delivers thrillingly choreographed action, but through the movie's unique domestic scale and resonance, he also suggests that simply getting through everyday family life is a heroic feat in itself. View oEmbed on the source website This time, with their special powers still officially outlawed, the Parr family faces a future in frustrated anonymity, until an approach from a tech magnate determined to bring the supers back to public acceptance gets Helen (brilliantly voiced by Holly Hunter) back in her stretchy Elastigirl suit to take on a terrifying new foe. However, she can only do so while Bob – the former Mr Incredible – (Craig T Nelson), holds the fort at home. Soon Bob’s realising that helping son Dash with his homework, tip-toeing round daughter Violet’s volatile emotions and keeping baby Jack-Jack entertained are indeed superhuman tasks. So we are presented with zingily fanciful spectacle – Elastigirl battling to save a runaway monorail train packed with passengers – playing off against the recognisably mundane – Bob wrestling manfully with the dilemma of purchasing AA or AAA batteries. It’s not so often, it has to be said, that we watch a superhero movie and see ourselves reflected back again. Like its predecessor, this is a very distinctive superhero picture, set in a sort of retro-future 1960s, which takes visual cues from that era’s small-screen animation and vintage James Bond movies. Even though it’s a world of landline handsets and old-fashioned TV sets in department store windows, it still somehow feels very connected to the here and now, especially with the appearance of nefarious villain The Screenslaver who threatens mind control over anyone hooked to the cathode-ray tube. Composer Michael Giacchino reprises his wonderful 007-meets-Vegas-lounge score to ensure that everything bounces along to winning effect, though arguably it does sound somewhat more familiar second time round. But that is just about the only hole you could pick in Incredibles 2, where the thrills and spills are amped up, the vocal performances totally spot-on, and baby Jack-Jack really finds his superhero mojo, to crowdpleasing effect. Of course, it’s all an enhanced version of what we saw in the original. It's understandable, of course, but there’s not the same freshness of discovery. For that reason, perhaps it falls a smidgen short of incredible second time around, but it's well nigh irresistible entertainment all the same.
The Happy Prince review: "a moody, bustling portrayal of a Victorian icon"
Oscar Wilde's life on the Continent after prison is a given labour-of-love treatment by director and star Rupert Everett
★★★ Rupert Everett has worked for a good ten years to bring this portrait of his hero, Oscar Wilde, to the screen. Not only that, he also makes his debut as writer/director and takes the central role of the Victorian cultural icon brought low by charges of gross indecency with men. View oEmbed on the source website Previously an absolute dab hand with Wilde’s glittering dialogue in film adaptations of An Ideal Husband and The Importance of Being Earnest, Everett might seem just the man to incarnate the author himself on celluloid, particularly after earning strong reviews for playing Wilde on the London stage in David Hare’s biographical study The Judas Kiss. There’s added value, too, in the specific approach favoured by Everett’s script, which focuses on the less-explored period of Wilde’s life, when he fled to the Continent after his release from Reading jail – never again to set foot in England or Ireland before his death at 46. As it is, Everett delivers a moody, bustling portrayal of a man coming to terms with the vicissitudes of his fate, focusing less on the whys and wherefores of his descent from gilded literary celebrity to reviled outcast, and more on the aftermath. We see him pondering his mortality, dealing with the hardscrabble daily realities of exile and bearing the weight of regret – the suggestion being that like the diamond-encrusted statue in Wilde’s eponymous short story, he’s somehow been undone by the generosity of his affections. With flashbacks to his London fame and previous loving family life threaded through the course of his reduced circumstances, Everett’s take on the biopic is even ambitious enough to accommodate an ongoing romantic triangle as well. Hence, flighty aristo Bosie (the object of affection who sparked the court proceedings) continues to cast a toxic spell thanks to Colin Morgan’s suitably brittle performance, while the sincere feelings of Wilde’s faithful literary executor Robbie Ross (an effective Edwin Thomas) go unreturned. The film’s rather mazy progress doesn’t quite satisfy, however. It’s particularly strong on the horrifying homophobic prejudice which proliferated during Wilde’s downfall – notably in the awful sight of Wilde the convict being spat at on a station platform while on the way to jail – yet, somehow, we never quite feel Oscar’s pain with the intensity that a really great film could have exposed. As a director, Everett perhaps lacks the experience to know when to settle long enough on something to allow the story’s true emotional heft to come out. Here, the restless camera seems too busy poring over myriad detail to deliver the bigger picture on Wilde’s tragedy. Everett’s investment in the material and his knowledge of the milieu is evident throughout, fascinating at times, yet the film also leaves the audience unsure what the main takeaway should be – Oscar the gay martyr or Oscar the self-destructive cynic? Everett would surely maintain that Wilde’s a hugely complex character, who refuses to be reduced to one thing or the other, and though at times he seems to be struggling through the padding required to bulk up for the part, ultimately his sheer connection with this glorious, tragic figure carries the day. A flawed, yet worthwhile and deeply felt rendering of an artist at the very end of his tether. Released in cinemas on Friday 15 June
Barking bad: Bryan Cranston reveals what drew him to Wes Anderson's Isle of Dogs
The Breaking Bad star also talks why animation should have the same pedigree as live-action
"My starting point was what if this was a stray human?” says Bryan Cranston. Chief is the strangest role he’s had since playing Walter White, the mild-mannered, cancer-stricken chemistry teacher turned crystal-meth kingpin in Breaking Bad. “Chief has never had a break. He’s had to fight for everything. I get that guy!” “That guy” is in fact a dog. But we’ll come to that later. When the 62-year-old Californian takes time to chat to Radio Times, he’s in London, finishing a run of Network at the National Theatre, playing the role made famous by Peter Finch in the 1976 film about a news anchor having a spectacular meltdown. The first reactions for Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs are in and everyone is loving it Isle of Dogs review: “wholly, idiosyncratically unique” Get him onto the subject of Isle of Dogs, Wes Anderson’s second stop-motion animation after Roald Dahl favourite Fantastic Mr Fox, and it’s clear that he’s still fired up. He relished the opportunity to work to the exacting standards presented by the cult Texan. View oEmbed on the source website This level of dedication to the craft of acting can take you to some unexpected places. Cranston’s success came after he turned 50 when he’d already put in two decades of work on American TV as a busy supporting player, most notably his six-year stint as the inept dad on Malcolm in the Middle. His game-changing role in Breaking Bad turned him into a cultural icon. With his bald pate, steel-rimmed glasses and basilisk stare, Walter White caught the public’s imagination: an essentially decent man who took the viewers on a compellingly dark journey. Now, in the latest in a string of enterprising challenges, Cranston’s remarkable gravel-and-honey tones get a fresh showcase. But back to Chief. In Isle of Dogs, he’s a wily mongrel with the scarred fur of a street-fighter – the “alpha dog” in a group of strays consigned to a toxic off-shore dump in a dystopian future Japan. The Cranstonian snarl fits Chief just perfectly: he doesn’t sit on command; he doesn’t fetch sticks; but he is the scrapper you’d always want on your side. He might be a hand-high puppet made from resin and fur over a metal frame, but to hear Cranston talk, Chief is alive in his imagination. “He’s most likely an orphan, filled with anger, who had to get tough or die,” he says. “That’s what makes him the alpha dog.” Like any actor, Cranston has had to scrap for decent roles. But, since Walter, they have somewhat fallen into his lap. There was an Oscar-nominated performance as blacklisted Hollywood screenwriter Trumbo, a Tony-winning Lyndon B Johnson in Broadway production All the Way, and praise for his turn as a navy veteran in Richard Linklater’s Last Flag Flying. Cranston is clearly on a roll. “I absolutely loved Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, so when the word came through that Wes wanted me, I was more than ready,” he relates. “It was only later I found out it was stop-motion animation.” Did he feel the slightest twinge of disappointment that this latest Anderson magnum opus was “only” animation? “Not for a moment. I don’t have that sort of prejudice, which regards animation as only for kids. Good storytelling is good storytelling, and this material is best told in an animated version. If you tried to do it as live action, I don’t think it would work so well as a parable. It opens you up to a different culture, a different language and environment, and that’s exactly what art should be doing.” View oEmbed on the source website The sense of conviction in Cranston’s delivery comes across in the finished film, though that’s just part of the magical believability that handcrafted stop-frame puppetry brings to the table. The film was brought to life in workshops and studios on the fringes of London’s Olympic Park (just a short hop from the actual Isle of Dogs in the city’s Docklands), and Andy Gent, the head of the puppet department, was kind enough to show me around. Padding behind us on the tour was Andy’s gorgeous chocolate-brown labrador, Charlie, one of five dogs brought in by crew members to gain authentic canine inspiration. Gent reserves special sympathy for the poor soul who spent eight months attaching eyebrow hair to the resin-cast faces of the human characters. But the entrancing and deliciously eccentric final results vindicate all the effort. “CGI is all very well,” he says, admitting to “a little bit of digital retouching here and there”. “There’s just something so special about something you can hold in your hands, and see the fur catching the light. We started with a few drawings and months later you had a talking dog. It’s a magic machine.” For Cranston, too, it was a fulfilling work-out, and a further astute choice that’s ensured his Breaking Bad career momentum is unlikely to peter out soon. It turns out that his secret is not to chase after success. “There’s so much product out there, all the time, it’s ‘Do this!’ ‘Do this!’ ‘Do this!’” he explains. “But, for me, it’s not about how much a movie makes, or the TV ratings, or the awards. I hold myself to a high standard. I want to reach a level of accomplishment with the characters I take on and the stories I tell. I can only be true to myself, so my measure of success is entirely personal.” Isle of Dogs is in cinemas from 30 March
Goodbye Christopher Robin review – "startling and affecting"
AA Milne's magical world has enchanted generations of readers, but the childhood of the real Christopher Robin was not as carefree
★★★★ Review by Trevor Johnston The magical world of A.A. Milne’s ‘Winnie the Pooh’ stories continues to enchant generations of young readers, yet this biographical drama suggests that a rather darker family history lurks behind the bedtime favourite. In Domhnall Gleeson’s straight-backed portrayal, Milne is shown as a somewhat troubled figure, a formerly successful writer of light theatrical comedies who faced crippling writer’s block when attempting to turn his traumatic First World War combat experiences into great literature. Having moved his wife Daphne and small son Christopher Robin to wooded rural seclusion so he could concentrate on his magnum opus, fooling around with children’s stories which brought their boy’s collection of soft toys to imaginative life turned out to be a blessed relief – and, of course, delivered Milne extraordinary worldwide fame and fortune. View oEmbed on the source website As the film title suggests however, the emotional focus here is on Christopher Robin himself, as the story brings to light a bitter irony. It turns out that the happy child in the stories, pottering around Hundred Acre Wood with his pals Pooh, Tigger and Piglet, actually had a somewhat miserable childhood in real life. Dimple-cheeked junior performer Will Tilston is so impossibly cute he almost looks as if he’s walked out of an illustration, yet he touchingly conveys both the joyful innocence and thwarted sadness of a child who’d much rather be playing with his dad than giving endless rounds of interviews promoting his books. None of which, frankly, endears us very much to Mr and Mrs Milne as they’re pictured in the course of the story. In his previous features, My Week with Marilyn and Woman in Gold, experienced theatre and television director Simon Curtis managed a judicious blend of facts and dramatic licence. In this instance though, while the notion of Milne essentially turning his own son into a brand to be exploited is certainly intriguing as cultural history, the writing never quite allows us to understand why Gleeson’s author and Margot Robbie as his brittle spouse, both proved so blasé about Christopher Robin’s basic well-being. In some respects, this is symptomatic of the posh parenting values of another age, but it does risk the audience buying out of the film, which cannily has the reliably empathetic Kelly Macdonald on hand as the family’s solicitous nanny to add some much-needed warmth and common sense. At times, it feels a little like the proceedings lack a compelling dramatic core, yet there is an appalled fascination to the revelation of the backstory behind such a beloved literary classic. With its golden-hued vintage Home Counties settings accompanied by Carter Burwell’s string-laden score, the film affects a comforting nostalgia slightly at odds with its unsettling subject matter, and builds to a final-reel cliffhanger best enjoyed by those unaware of the full Milne family background. Still, thanks to the contribution of young master Tilston (and indeed Alex Lawther who also makes an impact as the bristling teenage Christopher Robin), this remains a startling and affecting rendering of the incalculable cost of a lost childhood. ‘Winnie the Pooh’ won’t ever be the same again. Goodbye Christopher Robin is released in cinemas on Friday 29 September
Detroit review: "A vital statement on the oppressive power structures embedded in American society"
John Boyega stars in Kathryn Bigelow's urgent, angry drama about a bloody night in US history which resonates down the decades
★★★★ After meeting acclaim and no little controversy with both their previous collaborations, the Iraq war bomb-squad drama The Hurt Locker, and hunt-for-Bin-Laden procedural Zero Dark Thirty, screenwriter Mark Boal and director Kathryn Bigelow now tackle even more contentious territory with this dramatisation of disputed real-life events during the Detroit race riots of 1967. At its centre is a night of terror at an urban motel, where white city police investigating gunfire left behind a trail of broken and bloodied African-American bodies. It’s a choice of subject that instantly suggests the new film is using the turmoil of the past to comment on ongoing law-enforcement issues in the current era of Black Lives Matter. View oEmbed on the source website Certainly, this vivid, at times harrowing film is likely to stir up debate, not least from those who’d argue that this is not a story white film-makers should even be telling. That said, Boal and Bigelow’s approach is nuanced and far from conventional. It starts, for instance, with a potted history of post-slavery migration, told through folk-art paintings, to account for the presence of black-dominated ghettos in the northern state of Michigan. Only then does it set about recreating the explosive events of 1967, where those same districts went up in flames, a tinderbox ignited by perceptions of heavy-handed policing. Atmospheric archive footage from the period is used to bolster the film’s authentic-looking unfolding action, which picks out disparate characters in the swirl of destruction, including British actor John Boyega’s wary, conciliatory security guard, and Algee Smith as a would-be soul singer who’s crushed when the riots force the cancellation of his debut showcase. Their paths are to converge in the fateful events at the Algiers Motel, where the baddest apple in the Detroit force (Will Poulter, another Brit) takes centre stage in an extended sequence of abusive mental and physical violence that’s so claustrophobic and unremittingly upsetting it pretty much overwhelms the rest of the movie. In some ways, that’s a failure of judgment on the film-makers’ part, since it obscures what’s a daring decision to tackle a Civil Rights drama without the presence of a potent African-American orator to give expression to the anger prompted by such events. Instead, there’s a more subtle recognition here that the progress of social change is about the development of consciousness in individuals, something signalled by the understated yet telling performances of Boyega and Smith. While a certain number of points for credibility are scored by having real-life witnesses to the Algiers Motel carnage take part in the movie’s research, audiences might still prefer the emotional release of grand speechifying. Instead, the film leaves us in reflective mood, sensing that what we’ve witnessed is part of an ongoing continuum, not a closed-off report from the past. As such, Detroit is an expansive, angry, somewhat ragged, but always engaging watch. A vital, provocative statement on the oppressive power structures embedded deeply in American society, it suggests we’re on a very long road towards a fully shared recognition of the need to change. Trevor Johnston Detroit is released in cinemas on Friday 25 August
Swallows and Amazons review: "an involving, beautifully mounted adaptation"
Prepare to be transported by this latest take on Arthur Ransome's classic 1930s adventure – a radical reminder of an era when "kids being left to their own devices" meant something entirely different
★★★★ For today’s children, this fresh adaptation of Arthur Ransome’s classic Lake District tale must seem as if it’s taking place on some distant planet. The brothers and sisters here are allowed to take their dinghy to the waters by themselves and even stay overnight on the island at its middle. They gut fish for dinner, navigate their way round the shores, and even find themselves in a territorial dispute with some cunning local rivals. Not a smartphone or tablet in sight, no social media updates, and no sign of an app to light a campfire when the matches have gone astray. View oEmbed on the source website The year is 1935, so best not to expect such modern tech anyway, but what’s fascinating about this slight rejig of Ransome’s much-loved 1930 novel, is that whatever liberties it takes with the plot – the dastardly Russian spies are a new addition! – it preserves the values of an era when young people were expected to learn by doing, and left to get on with it themselves. So, when the Walker family head to their usual holidaying spot, their mum (Kelly Macdonald, caring but understated) seeks advice from her navy commander husband, currently en route to Hong Kong, before letting the four children set sail on their own. "Better drowned than duffers. If not duffers won’t drown" comes the telegram in reply, giving the two brothers and two sisters licence to take the Swallow out on the lake, providing they make a proper job of it. As it turns out, raising their flag on the island only sets off a tussle with the tomboy Blackett sisters, who dub themselves the Amazons and don’t take kindly to these interlopers, and whose family connections with Rafe Spall’s mysterious houseboat-dwelling travel writer will land all concerned in international intrigue and genuine jeopardy. Aside from renaming the younger Walker girl Tatty (originally Titty, would you believe?), the main change here, an espionage angle introducing firearms, could seem like a sop to the expectation of modern audiences. It is, though, also an appropriate nod to Ransome's own secret-service activities, while a nifty opening sequence on a train throws up welcome celluloid associations with Hitchcock’s 1935 version of The 39 Steps. The added action does also give the film a bit more vim and vigour than the overly genteel 1974 screen Swallows and Amazons, long a stalwart of holiday TV schedules. With more at stake, the drama is intensified, as director Philippa Lowthorpe (whose own small-screen pedigree includes Jamaica Inn and Call the Midwife) gives everything hands-on credibility while still retaining the nostalgic appeal of bygone days. Lowthorpe also works brilliantly with the junior cast, where Dane Hughes’s oldest boy conveys the weight of responsibility, Teddie-Rose Malleson-Allen is a smart and sparky Tatty, and Bobby McCulloch’s Roger gets the biggest laughs as the adorably bumbling junior crew member Roger. All in all, it's an intelligent, involving, beautifully mounted adaptation of material that might easily have seemed an old-fashioned relic. And the grey, blustery Lake District weather could hardly be more British. Swallows and Amazons is in cinemas from Friday 19th August